Fighting Dutch
by Kathryn Mason-Sykes
Summary: **UPDATED VERSION** Spot Conlon is the fearless leader of the Brooklyn newsies. But will his one weakness be the downfall of his entire empire? They never said life would be easy, but will everything be worth it in the end?
1. King of New York

A/N: I started this story back in 2002, got through Chapter 6, and left it alone for a little over 5 years. I'm re-discovering my love of Newsies and have always wanted to finish this story, so I have updated all the old chapters (better language, better continuity) and will be posting an updated chapter each week (if not sooner). I've finished Chapter 7 (my first new chapter in 5 years!) and am working on Chapter 8. To say it's taking a slight deviation from the original plan would be an understatement. I've missed being part of the Newsie-verse…and I'm glad to be back. :)

Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): I don't own Newsies or anything you recognize (I watched a lot of Buffy in my youth and I fear it's seeped into all aspects of my life). I have created several OCs for this story and while there's a possibility that the newsie names appear elsewhere on this site, I intend no infringement or theft—the newsies in this story are of my own creation and mind.

**Fighting Dutch**

**Chapter One – King of New York**

"Spot?"

"Yeah?"

"Umm, we'se gots a problem."

"We'se, or youse?"

"We'se."

""Well den, why dontcha explain dis problem to me."

"OK. Ya see Bunny from Queens was heah earliah, an' she says dat she was overhearin' Piper tellin' Fuel dat Queens's gonna try an' get a piece a Brooklyn for demselves."

"Bunny says she was hearin' tings like dat? Bring 'ah heah."

"Shuah, Spot. I'll bring 'ah ta dinnah."

"Good. Thanks for dat info, Dizzy." Spot concluded, signaling the end of the conversation with a curt nod of his head. Dizzy nodded in return and left Spot alone on the bunkhouse roof.

Spot sighed, staring out at the setting sun in the horizon. Even though it was the beginning of April the sun was still setting at the same time it had been doing since the end of February. It had become almost routine for Spot to come out onto the rooftop every night to watch the sunset, and always alone. For it was only while his eyes filled with the mystical reds, golds, and purples that he could contemplate life. The city sounds of the street below would disappear, and Spot would gaze at the horizon until the sun had fallen to the moon and night overtook the busy streets of Brooklyn, bringing Spot out of his contemplation and signaling him back into his life as the leader of the Brooklyn newsies.

It had been three years since the strike that had proven the power of the working class kids and Spot was no longer a boy, but a handsome young man of nineteen. He was the oldest member of the Brooklyn newsies, and had been their leader for four years, one of the longest running leaderships in the history of the Brooklyn newsies. Normally, newsies would go out into the adult world and get real jobs and start families around the time they turned eighteen, but Spot wasn't ready for all that. He wanted to find steady work and settle down and start a family, but 1903 wasn't looking to be the best time to find steady work for a young man with no formal education. Moreover, Spot had already decided from being an orphan that he was not going to bring any children into the world that he couldn't provide for. Yet regardless of both of these reasons, the primary factor in why Spot remained the newsies' leader was the lack of anyone else qualified to do the job.

Jack had gotten out of the newsies business over a year ago. He married Sarah and since then had gotten a job building the new automobiles Mr. Ford invented. The last Spot heard of them they were expecting their first child in two or three months. Spot smiled, knowing that Jack Kelly would be a great father to any kid. And it wasn't just Jack who was ineligible for Spots job. Mush, Race, and Blink ran the Manhattan newsies for the most part, but they were getting up in age as well. Blitz, Pepper, Vince, and Charlie, the male members of Spot's inner circle, were also getting ready to leave the newsie life and were slowly beginning to fade into the adult world by procuring other odd jobs outside of the paper. Vince had even managed to land a job as a secretary for one of the big shot journalists at the Times. He sold every morning, but was always at work by eight o'clock in his suit and tie. Spot was surrounded by few newsies over the age of 14 and countless younger faces. There was no way that he was going to leave Brooklyn to go the hell by some newcomer with a slingshot; it was the only real home he ever remembered having.

Nevertheless, Spot was on the lookout for a qualified successor. Dizzy was the perfect candidate, except, she was a girl. The other newsies would likely view that as a weakness and would either leave Brooklyn or try to overthrow her. Unfortunately, Brooklyn was considered too rough by most female newsies, and thus the city only had six to boast of. Spot knew that placing Dizzy in charge with such a minority following was not the wisest decision.

As the sun fell further behind the horizon, Spot began to think about what Dizzy had said. Bunny was a very reliable source, as well as a fair friend. If Queens really was looking for a fight, Brooklyn would give them one to remember. The Brooklyn newsies were more than capable of overthrowing Queens. They were strong, quick, the most skilled fighters in New York, and their leader had no weaknesses.

Except one: her. She was his world, and Spot knew that if anyone used her to get to him he would be finished. This is why no one, their friends included, knew about their relationship. Spot hated not being able to put his arm around her or hold her hand in public, and he felt horrible flirting with other girls to maintain his womanizer reputation. And yet she understood their situation and accepted everything as necessary. Besides, she knew that Spot would never do anything with anyone else. She weakened him in a way that no other woman could ever compare, and he loved her with every fiber of his being. He would talk with her about the situation with Queens tonight.

The sun set on the horizon and Spot sighed. He got up and headed back down to the street, back down to the real world, back to where he was the proud and cocky king of Brooklyn.

A chorus of "Hey Spot!"s and "Where ya been?"s hit his ears as he entered Dub's, the local diner. He nodded his head with authority in response and sent a friendly smirk in the direction of his fellow newsies. He walked towards the back of the diner where his inner circle sat at their unofficially official table. Dizzy, Bunny, Blitz, Dutchess, Charlie, Vince, and Pepper were already there.

"Heya Spot, where ya been?" Pepper asked, moving over so that Spot could sit comfortably between himself and Dizzy.

"Noweah dat consoins any of youse," Spot replied, smiling devilishly. The hap-dash group laughed loudly.

"Deflowahed another young maiden in distress, eh Spot?" Dutchess joked, wriggling her eyebrows.

"Wut can I'se say? Dey all loves me."

"I'll believe it when I sees youse wit da same goil mowah den twice," Dizzy commented.

"Yeah, yeah, whatevah. Me's business is none 'o youse consoin. Now, I believe I've been neglecting our guest. How ya bin, Bunny?" Spot asked, turning his eyes to the only non-Brooklyn newsie at the table.

"I'se been bettah. Queens's getting' to be too full 'a crooks and joiks for my likes. It ain't like it used to be," Bunny stated, sorrow slightly evident in her tone.

"Aww, dat's too bad. Dey ain't hurtin' youse, right?" Vince questioned.

"No, no, nuttin' like dat. Just a bunch a punks whose tink dat deys da kings of New Yoirk."

"Ain' at always da way," Charlie sympathized, as they began to eat.

After dinner, Spot and Bunny snuck off, backed by several knowing looks and jokes. They walked around Brooklyn for a bit, their meeting cloaked by the dark streets of the city. They discussed life briefly, but mostly stuck to the problem at hand: Queens. Bunny told Spot everything that she had overheard, and none of it was good. After listening to everything Bunny had said, Spot extended the invitation to stay at the Brooklyn lodging house, which Bunny graciously accepted.

Once they had returned and Spot had made sure Bunny was safe and sound in the bunkroom, he quietly slipped outside again. He needed to see her.

--

**All reviews are appreciated! Spot!Muse appreciates cookies as well. ;)**


	2. Late Nights & Decisions

A/N: I started this story back in 2002, got through Chapter 6, and left it alone for a little over 5 years. I'm re-discovering my love of Newsies and have always wanted to finish this story, so I have updated all the old chapters (better language, better continuity) and will be posting an updated chapter each week (if not sooner). I've finished Chapter 7 (my first new chapter in 5 years!) and am working on Chapter 8. To say it's taking a slight deviation from the original plan would be an understatement. I've missed being part of the Newsie-verse…and I'm glad to be back. :)

Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): I don't own Newsies or anything you recognize (I watched a lot of Buffy in my youth and I fear it's seeped into all aspects of my life). I have created several OCs for this story and while there's a possibility that the newsie names appear elsewhere on this site, I intend no infringement or theft—the newsies in this story are of my own creation and mind.

**Fighting Dutch**

**Chapter Two- Late Nights & Decisions**

"Michael?" she whispered into the darkness. Even though he moved like shadow, she could always detect his presence. It was as if her veins filled with fire when she felt him approach.

"Yeah, it's me," Spot replied, stepping out of the shadows and quietly crossing the floor to her bed.

"I knew it," she smiled, standing up and wrapping her arms around him as she kissed him deeply.

The things that made him defenseless. Spot immediately encircled her within his arms, returning the kiss with equal fervor. When their lips eventually parted, he smiled at her.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too," she replied, leading him over to the bed and crawling under the covers. She invited him to follow and he did. After she was comfortably nestled within his arms, Spot began on what he had come to discuss with her...

"So basically, Piper is the current leader of Queens and he thinks dat he's powerful enough to come over here and take you out?"

"Yeah. Apparently, he's got some tings to settle wit me an' he thinks dat attacking Brooklyn is da way ta go about it."

"Mike, you know he ain't got nothin' on Brooklyn. Youse soaked him yourself how many times?"

"Yeah, I'se did," Spot smiled in fond memory. "But do youse think I should tell da uddahs to prepare for a fight, just in case?"

"I'se think dat you should tell 'em and tell 'hattan too. Jack may not be da leadah anymore, but Race is always behind us. He should know, just in case."

"Yeah, youse right...and don't tell anyone I'se said dat," Spot smirked.

"Darn, an' I was gonna shout it from the rooftop," she laughed softly, pulling herself up on her elbows to kiss him soundly on the mouth. This motion signaled the end of the conversation.

Spot suddenly didn't care what was happening in Brooklyn, Queens, or the world. All he cared was that he was with the woman he loves…and all he could think about was where their hands and mouths were roaming…

…The next morning…

"Yo, Spot, get up!" Bunny yelled, throwing the covers off of Spot's fully clothed body.

"Whadaya wants with me, woman. Aincha know round here I'se the boss? I'll get up when I wanna get up," Spot mumbled, pushing her away from his bunk.

"Yeah, yeah, it ain't my fault youse was out late trouncin' around. We's got papes ta sell an' some Queens ta deal wit," Bunny replied.

"Oh, yeah, dat," Spot yawned, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk and hopping down gracefully. Once he was down, he pushed Bunny playfully. "Donchous evah touch me covahs again, goily."

"Oh, Spot, dat hoits. It really does," she joked, putting on a pout. Spot laughed.

"C'mon, we'se got papes ta sell an' Manhattan ta visit."

Bunny looked up at him, surprised.

"Youse gonna tell Manhattan?"

"Yeah. It can't hoit," Spot replied, leading the way out of the lodging house.

…across town…

"Kathryn, it's time to get up," Mr. Winters said, opening her door just enough to carry his voice through.

"OK, Daddy, I'll be right out," Kathryn replied, stretching her arms above her head. She caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity and something caught her eye. Or rather, two somethings. One, her nightgown was unbuttoned enough to reveal the top of her breasts, and two, there was a noticeable purplish mark above her right breast. She quickly got up to examine the mark more closely. Sure enough, it was most definitely a love bite. Spot was normally very careful about leaving marks, but they hadn't been alone together for nearly a week. It was understandable that they got slightly carried away with their kissing hours earlier.

Kathryn quickly powdered the area with the little powder left from her mother and proceeded to dress for the day. She put on some trousers under her skirt and hid her cap beneath her blouse. He father was aware that she was a newsie, but that didn't mean he knew that she dressed as one.

"I'll get breakfast started at once, Daddy," she stated, emerging from her room a few moments later. Her long brown hair fell neatly pleated down her back, showing no signs that in an hour it would be securely fastened beneath her hidden cap.

"Thank you," her father replied, looking up from his mending. "I have something to discuss with you over breakfast."

"Yes, Daddy," she responded, hanging her head over the sink. He must know about her late night visitor; he must have heard them.

Kathryn kept her head down for the duration of the preparation, trying to imagine the worst-case scenario. She finally concluded that the worst he could do was disown her, and since she could have a spot at either the Brooklyn or Manhattan lodging houses she figured that life could be worse. Ultimately she decided to pretend that nothing had happened and pretend that she had no idea what he was talking about. If he didn't know for sure, she could get out of it somehow.

After they had been seated at breakfast for about five minutes, Kathryn decided to break the ice.

"What did you wish to speak to me about, Daddy?"

He looked up at his daughter for a moment and put his knife and fork down, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. She followed suit and folded her hands in her lap.

"Well, Kathryn, there comes a time in every young girl's life where she becomes more than a girl; she becomes a woman. And as your 18th birthday grows near, I do believe that you have grown into quite an extraordinary young woman, and as such you should begin to act accordingly."

"Daddy, if this is about the newsies, they're complete gentlemen with me. They protect me, not compromise me."

"Darling, that's not what I'm trying to say at all. As there really is no easy way to say this, I would like you to know that I will not be around forever and I want to see you with a better life than the one that I have provided," he said. He paused to gather himself up to his full seated height before continuing with finality, "Kathryn, you are to wed." Kathryn smiled, not quite comprehending her father's words.

"Of course I am to wed, Daddy. I mean to supply you with ample grandchildren to spoil. Just give me time to wed the right man."

Her father sighed.

"Kathryn that is not what I am saying. I am telling you that you are to wed. Samuel Brownston has asked for your hand, and I accepted."

Kathryn's face fell from a light smile to a display of shock, realization, and torment all at once.

"NO! Daddy, I can't!"

"Samuel is a good man from a wealthy family. It is entirely for your benefit that you marry him."

"No Daddy, please, please don't make me marry him," Kathryn pleaded, sobbing while she knelt at her father's side. It destroyed him to see his daughter so distraught, but after weighing all the options this was the one he felt suited her best.

"I'm sorry, Kathryn, but my decision is final. You are to wed Samuel in half a month's time. I advise you to begin separating yourself from the newsies, as you will no longer need to live such a lifestyle." With these words, Kathryn's father stood, placed his dishes in the wash bin, and went into his room, closing the door behind himself.

Kathryn stood in shock for a few minutes. When she realized that it was nearly 5:40am and the papers would be out shortly, she knew she had to get on her way to the distribution center. For the first time in her life, she dreaded having to face Spot Conlon.

--

**All reviews are appreciated! Spot!Muse appreciates cookies as well. ;)**


	3. Reactions & Options

A/N: I started this story back in 2002, got through Chapter 6, and left it alone for a little over 5 years. I'm re-discovering my love of Newsies and have always wanted to finish this story, so I have updated all the old chapters (better language, better continuity) and will be posting an updated chapter each week (if not sooner). I've finished Chapter 7 (my first new chapter in 5 years!) and am working on Chapter 8. To say it's taking a slight deviation from the original plan would be an understatement. I've missed being part of the Newsie-verse…and I'm glad to be back. :)

Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): I don't own Newsies or anything you recognize (I watched a lot of Buffy in my youth and I fear it's seeped into all aspects of my life). I have created several OCs for this story and while there's a possibility that the newsie names appear elsewhere on this site, I intend no infringement or theft—the newsies in this story are of my own creation and mind.

**Fighting Dutch**

**Chapter 3-Reactions & Options**

"Heya fellas, how's it rollin'?" Spot greeted Vince, Pepper, Charlie, Blitz, and Dizzy as he and Bunny joined them at the front of the distribution line.

"Heya Spot. Hey Bunny," Blitz replied, with mumbled "good-mornin's" from the rest of the crew backing him up.

"Hey, weah short one. Where's Dutchess?" Spot asked, looking for the familiar face.

"Iunno wheah she is. She's normally heah by now... Look, theah she is," Dizzy answered, pointing down the block. Sure enough, Dutchess was dragging herself down the street, staring at her feet.

"Heya dollface, ya late!" Vince called out, jokingly. She didn't seem to hear him.

"Yo Dutch, youse up yet?" Bunny called, trying to get her friend's attention. When she still didn't respond, Spot's brow creased in concern and he jogged over to her, motioning for the others to stay in line.

"Hey youse," Spot said softly, slowing to a stop in front of her. When she still didn't look up, Spot placed a finger under her chin and lifter her face to his. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, tears silently cascading down her inflamed cheeks and lips. Spot had never in all the time he had known her seen her like this. He'd never seen her cry or show any weakness in public. It alarmed him immediately.

"Jesus, Baby, what's wrong?" Spot asked, placing his hands on her shoulders and examining her for scuff marks or bruises. "Did someone hurt youse? I sweah, I'll kill 'em, I sweah." She shook her head slightly, but couldn't stop a fresh wave of tears from slipping as she knew what she had to say.

"No, not that. My dad's makin' me git married," she whispered in a choked voice.

"Married?!" Spot cracked, abandoning his visual search for damage and bringing his eyes back to hers. He hadn't been expecting her to say anything like that.

"To Sam Brownston. Mike, my dad's agreed for me to marry him in two weeks. He told me at breakfast," she continued, holding back another sob and rubbing her fist across her eyes. Spot couldn't believe his ears. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake himself from.

"No...No-you can't...no," Spot tried, finding his voice gone. He was so appalled by the news he did something they had agreed never to do in front of anyone else and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her back while she cried into his shoulder.

"It'll be ok," Spot whispered into her ear, holding the back of her head to him. "It'll all be fine. We'll fix it. It'll be ok, Baby, I promise."

As soon as they'd seen Dutchess start to cry, Dizzy, Bunny, Vince, Charlie, and Blitz all ran towards where she and Spot were now embracing. The latter part had left everyone else silent and frozen in place. No one knew what Spot was telling her, but it was very apparently as intimate an embrace as any of them had ever seen, by their leader or anyone else.

Dutchess' sobs had subsided only slightly by the time their friends reached them.

"Dutch, youse ok?"

"Hey Spot, what's going on?"

"Wassah maddah witchou?"

"Guys," Dizzy said, signaling them to stop the flow of questions. Spot and Dutchess were still joined in their embrace, Spot whispering soothing words in her ear, oblivious to the surrounding group. Dizzy tapped Spot on the shoulder, startling him.

"Hey Spot, is der anything ya wanna tell us?" Dizzy asked, wording her statement as gently as possible. Spot turned to look at her for a moment before turning back to Dutchess, looking to her eyes for approval. She consented with a short nod, and Spot turned back to the anxious group.

"Dutch is getting' married. She ain't gonna be a newsie no mowah," Spot replied stiffly. No one said a word at first, as each was too stunned to speak.

"Wow, Dutchess," Blitz started, "I guess youse desoive a congratulation. I din't even know youse was seein' someone, but congrats, I guess."

"That's the problem! I wasn't seein' him! My faddah accepted for me, and now I have to marry Sam Brownston in two weeks. TWO WEEKS! I can't marry Sam, I-I can't!" Dutchess exclaimed, breaking down again and finding herself pressed into Spot's warm embrace.

"It's gonna be ok. We'll work something out, I promise. I'll fix it. It's gonna be ok," Spot soothed, rubbing her back. This shocked everyone. Of all the things Spot had been called, 'compassionate' was not on the list. And yet, here their leader was, soothing his friend in a most delicate and caring way.

Just then the circulation bell began to ring. Spot pulled back and looked Dutchess in the eye, holding a silent conversation with her. After a few moments, he turned to the others.

"Bunny, I know I'se said dat I would poisonally escort ya home, but I gots ta fix dis. Blitz, why don't youse walk Bunny back aftah you twose sell da early edition. Everyone else, dat bell just rang. I'd get selling' if I was youse. Dutch and I'se is gonna make dis right, or whatevah we can do ta keep her from marryin' dat muckety-muck. We'll be back ta sell the afternoon edition. Until den, Dizzy's in charge. Vince, if anyone gives her any grief, you have my permission ta soak 'em," Spot declared. "Undahstand?" he asked. Some mumbled "yeahs" and "uh-huhs" came from their mouths as Spot grabbed Dutchess' hand in his and led her off down the street.

"Is ya faddah home?" Spot asked, pulling her around a corner.

"He is right now. He leaves around eleven o'clock for lunch with the Brownston's." Dutchess replied.

"Ok, we're going to da lodgin' house den. No one's dere," he told her, pulling her around another turn. A few minutes later they had reached their destination. Spot signed them both in and lead Dutchess up to the bunk room. After making sure the room was completely empty, Spot locked the door and climbed up next to her where she sat on his bunk.

"Ok, now I want you to tell me everything your faddah said, an' we'll figyah sompin' out. Youse is NOT marrying Samuel Brownston, not while I'se is still alive," Spot said, laying down and pulling Dutchess down beside him. She laid her head on his chest before answering.

"I got up dis mornin' an' made breakfast like usual. Den my dad says ta me dat I need ta get married, an' I kinda laugh and tell him I know, but I have ta have time to marry da right one. Then he says dat I'm not understandin' him, an' he says dat he's getting' older an' dat he wants me to have a better life then da one he can give me. An' then he tells me that I'm ta marry Sam, cuz he accepted for me, and dat I'm gonna marry 'im in two weeks. Then he told me I need ta start sayin' good-bye to the newsies, cuz I ain't gonna be one no mowah."

"Did you tell him no?"

"Of course! I don't wanna marry Sam, and I told my dad that I can't marry Sam, but he said it was final," she sighed. "I don't know what to do, Mike."

"We'll do whatevah it takes. I ain't lettin' youse marry no one but me," Spot replied. Dutchess looked up at him wearily.

"Mike, what if it comes down to that? I know youse isn't wantin' ta get married yet. An' I don't want youse ta marry me only ta regret it latah," she stated, looking away from him. Spot sat up, pulling her up to look into his eyes.

"I knew when I foist met youse dat you were da one I would love forevah. Dat I would nevah be able to love anyone else after you. An' while I didn't anticipate marryin' you right now, I've known dat youse was da goil I'm gonna marry since da foist kiss. Whether we get married right now, in two weeks, or in two yeahs, you are the woman I am goin' to marry. I love you too much to evah let go, and I will do everything to keep you with me," Spot said, sealing his words with a kiss. As they pulled slightly apart he gave a half grin said softly, "I dunno what I'd do witout you, kiddo."

"I love you too, Mike," she whispered against his lips. Spot grinned and kissed her again. She smiled for the first time that day and returned the kiss for a few moments before breaking it.

"So, let's brainstorm. Get a list 'a options togethah," she said.

"Ok. Numbah one, youse an' I tell your faddah about us and he loves us and tells Sam 'no'."

"And then pigs with wings will fill the sky and blow kisses at us. While I like the idea of telling my faddah, he'd nevah go for 'us' over Sam. We're newsies, Spot. An' my faddah wants me away from da life, not marryin' its leadah."

"Ok, numbah two, youse run awah and hide heah. Well, not HEAH in Brooklyn, but wit da newsies."

"I'd rather have my faddah disown me den run away from him meself."

"Ok den. Numbah three, youse marry Sam."

"I won't even answer that."

"I know babe, I'm just layin' out ya options. Even the ones that ain't happenin'."

"I know, I just don't even wanna think about it comin' ta that."

"Me neithah. Ok, numbah four, you pretend like youse is gonna marry Sam, but leave him on da altah."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to dat either. Sam's not a bad guy, I just don't wanna marry him."

"Numbah five, we elope. Youse can't be married ta two people."

"Mike, do you even WANT to get married? I mean, we ain't really talked about it, cuz although I was kinda hopin' it would happen, I wasn't thinking it would be before I'm eighteen. Honestly, what are your thoughts on marriage?"

"My thoughts. It's more my consoins. I don't wanna not be able to provide for ya, and I don't wanna leave Brooklyn to just anybody either. I wanna find a good leadah for Brooklyn, get a good job, and marry you, in dat order. But if da order gets a little mixed up, as long as I have you I don't care. My biggest feah is that if we'se is married while I'm still leadah, if we'se is even public about our relations, everyone against me will find out, an' they'll come aftah youse to get ta me. I don't know what I'd do without youse, and I don't wanna put your life at risk. It's enough of a worry having as many close friends as I do. If any of da crew was hoit becuz 'a me, I dunno what I'd do. But you know I'd do anything to save you, an' dat scares me. I'm supposed ta give anything for Brooklyn, an' I'd give Brooklyn for you. I don't wanna have to make that decision," Spot explained. Dutchess nodded in understanding.

"I know. I don't want youse ta gotta do that either. So I guess the plan for now is dat I try an' get my faddah ta budge, and I try to get Sam to change his mind. If it hasn't worked by next week, we'll try ta do somthin' else. Maybe we can secretly marry or sompin. Who knows. We'll figure out something though."

"You bet we will, baby. Youse is mine an' only mine," Spot grinned, wrapping both arms around her waist and pulling her towards himself for a kiss that she fervently returned…

As they walked towards the Distribution Center two hours later for the afternoon edition, neither Spot nor Dutchess displayed any signs of the emotion they had been releasing only a few moments earlier. Other than slightly swollen lips and some discreetly places marks, no sign of their relations existed.

They met up with the others at the beginning of the distribution line, their friend's eager faces awaiting any news.

"So? What's gonna happen?" Dizzy asked.

"We'se don't know yet. For now, I'm gonna keep protesting, but go along with everything. Whether my faddah listens and whatevah the outcome, I will NOT be marryin' Samuel Brownston in the end," Dutchess replied firmly.

--

**All reviews are appreciated! Spot!Muse appreciates cookies as well. ;)**


	4. What Love Will Do

A/N: I started this story back in 2002, got through Chapter 6, and left it alone for a little over 5 years. I'm re-discovering my love of Newsies and have always wanted to finish this story, so I have updated all the old chapters (better language, better continuity) and will be posting an updated chapter each week (if not sooner). I've finished Chapter 7 (my first new chapter in 5 years!) and am working on Chapter 8. To say it's taking a slight deviation from the original plan would be an understatement. I've missed being part of the Newsie-verse…and I'm glad to be back. :)

Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): I don't own Newsies or anything you recognize (I watched a lot of Buffy in my youth and I fear it's seeped into all aspects of my life). I have created several OCs for this story and while there's a possibility that the newsie names appear elsewhere on this site, I intend no infringement or theft—the newsies in this story are of my own creation and mind.

**Fighting Dutch**

**Chapter Four-What Love Will Do**

"Sam, I can't marry you," Kathryn blurted out. They were having dinner at his parents' house and she had been waiting for a moment when they were finally alone to break the news to him.

"Pardon?" Samuel said, not thinking he'd heard her correctly.

"I. can't. marry. you. Please Samuel, do not force me. I don't want to do this," she pleaded. Sam looked beleaguered.

"Kathryn, I...what would you like for me to do?" he responded.

"I'm not sure. Can you tell my father that you do not want to marry me? I will do anything to make you not want to marry me." Kathryn pleaded. Sam looked at her with concern.

"…Kate, what has brought all this on?" She took a breath to plan her response before deciding honesty was the best route.

"Sam, I am going to be honest with you. I am in love with someone else, and I want to marry him. You're a great man and everything, but I don't love you." A mixture of surprise, confusion and a bit of hurt flashed through Samuel's eyes.

"Kathryn, I cannot just tell your father that I do not want to marry you. Apparently, while your mother was employed by my father he promised her that should anything happen to her or your father, he would provide for you. After your mom died, you still had your father, but now that he is getting older, he has asked my father to look out for you. And since my father has decided that I should marry, it all works out. Kate, if you are worried about your lifestyle, I will never do wrong to you. You are the sweetest girl I have ever met, and though I may not have been so excited at first, I am comfortable with it now," Sam explained. As additional justification, he continued, "Besides, I cannot tell my father no, he is just like your dad."

She looked at him with pleading eyes. He continued speaking so that she might further understand his position. "Do not worry, Kate. You are nervous now, but I hope that you will grow to love me once you get over the shock. I know exactly where you are coming from, but it will be all right in the end."

Kathryn didn't appreciate his placating tone.

"I know that I would be OK with you, Sam, but I do not want to be OK! I want to be more than 'OK'! I want to marry for love, not for a promise made ten years ago without my permission!" she exclaimed. "I love Michael, more than life itself. And while you are a fine man, you are not the one for me. Please, Sam, please… I love him," she begged, tears streaming down her face. Samuel sighed and looked into her eyes, taking her hands into his.

"You are positive that he is the one. No doubts?" he asked, seriously.

"No doubts about our love, and as long as we have that, I am happier than I could ever be elsewhere," she replied, holding his gaze. Samuel waited a few moments before responding, thinking through everything she had just shared with him before drawing a deep breath for his reply.

"I will speak to your father and mine, but I cannot make any promises. You know how they can be. Personally, I value your happiness above all else. You have been a good friend and I know you to be a great person; you deserve happiness, even if it is not with me."

Samuel's words caused Kathryn to cry with joy at his understanding, and she pulled him into a strong hug.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," she whispered.

………

Later that evening as Kathryn was preparing for bed, her father came to speak with her.

"Yes, Daddy?" she greeted her father, turning from her wardrobe.

"Samuel came to speak to me this evening. He said that you do not wish to marry him, and that with the permission of myself and his father, he would like to respect that wish," he stated solemnly. "What do you know of this?"

"I've already told you that I love another--"

"Who? Some street orphan with no decent education or upbringing? I am sorry, Kathryn, but I will NOT allow you to become lower than you are! You would be best off forgetting your street friends, because you are marrying Samuel this Saturday and that is that!"

"But Daddy--"

"No 'but's, Kathryn. Now I want you home tomorrow by 11 o'clock. We have a luncheon, and then you shall be fitted for your dress. Good night," he said, closing the door with finality. Kathryn stared at the door for a minute before falling to her knees, overrun with sobs.

Spot made his way up the fire escape stealthily. When they had spoken earlier, Dutchess had declared that she would speak with Samuel at the evening's gala. Spot was to meet with her afterwards to evaluate the situation. His emergency meeting with Bunny had run longer than expected, but Spot hoped that she was still awake. They had much to talk about.

There was no call for 'Michael' this time as Spot entered the room, only the sound of uneasy sleep. As he slid silently across the floor, a fraction of moonlight fell across her face, revealing tear tracks down her cheeks. Spot hated the thought of her crying. He reached out to run his fingers over the trails, trying to erase them, and causing her to wake.

"There you are," Dutchess whispered, opening her eyes and moving over to allow him room on the bed.

"Here I am," he replied with a tired grin, sliding into the bed next to her and putting his arms around her waist. "I've been worryin' 'bout youse all night. How'd everything go?"

"Not so well. Sam understood about us and spoke with both my father and his father, but neither would budge. Tomorrow I go to get fitted for my WEDDING GOWN. Spot, we have less than a week now! I've done all I can do except introduce you to my father as my betrothed, which we'se both know he ain't gonna fall for. I'm slotted to be on that alter in four days. Mike, what are we gonna do?" she implored, pulling him closer. Spot looked down at her and grinned wearily.

"Well, wese'll do what we'se gotta. But I wanna do dis right, so I'll hafta ask youse to wait 'til tomorrow mornin' when I'm all prepared," Spot said, a slight nervous lilt infecting his tone. Hearing him say this instantly raised Kathryn's spirit a great amount.

"Is that NERVOUSNESS I detect in the great Spot Conlon's voice?" she teased.

"Me? Noivous? Nevah woman. I ain't get noivous," Spot replied with a cocky grin, pulling her close, so as her head rested beneath his upon his chest. "You'll see. We'll be fine. And maybe someday your faddah will love me too, but I'se love you and youse love me, and dat's all der is to it, babe. Ain't nothin' else matter," he sighed contently.

"Stay with me tonight, Michael. I mean, I know you have to be out before anyone sees ya, but just spend a few hours wit me. A taste a' what it'll be like to have youse sleepin' next ta me every night," Dutchess asked. Spot smiled.

"Yeah, I'll give ya a taste," he grinned, placing soft kisses from her neck to her lips before locking his arms around her and falling into a light sleep.

Spot climbed in the eastward window of the lodging house around 5am, right before Mr. DeSousa usually came in to wake everyone up. However, instead of being met by a room of sleeping newsies, he was met with a room of sleeping newsies and four imploring eyes.

"So, Spot, late night?" Dizzy asked, standing up and walking towards him, Blitz beside her.

"Youse could say dat," Spot replied, not appreciating the tone of her voice. "Why are youse two awake at dis hour?" Blitz stepped closer to him, causing his defenses to go up on instinct.

"We can't talk here," Blitz whispered, nodding towards all the sleeping newsies. "Let's go up to the roof." Spot shot a quick glance at Dizzy and nodded his consent.

"OK, talk," Spot commanded once they had reached the roof. Dizzy shared a look with Blitz before speaking. They both looked secretly nervous.

"Well, youse been kinda distant this past week or so, an' we'se just wanted to know what's goin' on," she asked.

"Stuff dat don't consoin you or da oddah newsies, so don't worry 'bout it," Spot replied sternly.

"Except dat anyting dat takes your focus away from Brooklyn consoins us," Blitz interjected. Spot gave him a fierce look.

"I ain't losin' focus on Brooklyn," he replied, practically growling.

"Hey, Spot, weah your friends. We ain't tryin' ta challenge your authority. We just want to know what's been goin' on. Youse barely said a word about Queens all week," Dizzy explained calmly. "We'se just worried about youse."

"Well don't worry about me. I'se appreciate da consoin, but I can worry about meself. According to Bunny, Queens is still all talk. Plus, we'se got Manhattan backin' us. Don't worry. As long as we'se all keep our ears and our eyes open, we'll be good. The last thing I need right now is youse guys goin' worried on me," Spot said, his defenses slightly lowered by the fact that it was subject matter he was comfortable discussing with his second in command.

"OK, Spot. Sorry ta question youse like dat, it's just...this week, you ain't said but two woids ta us about Queens, and we was getting worried that youse was tryin' so hard to help Dutch that youse was distracted," Dizzy replied, much more relaxed, but still slightly worried.

"Well, that's all fixed now, so don't worry 'bout dat either. And don't ask Dutchess about it. She don't like to talk about it," Spot stated.

"What's she gonna do?" Blitz asked.

"She's gonna come stay wit us at the lodgin' house for a while. Jus' don't ask her any questions. If she wants to tell youse somethin', she'll tell youse when she's ready. Now I believe we'se have a mornin' edition to get ready for," Spot replied, eliminating all further questions as he re- entered the lodging house, Dizzy and Blitz following behind him shortly after.

--

**All reviews are appreciated! Spot!Muse appreciates cookies as well. ;)**


	5. Cause & Affect

A/N: Updated Chapter 5.

Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): I don't own Newsies or anything you recognize (I watched a lot of Buffy in my youth and I fear it's seeped into all aspects of my life). I have created several OCs for this story and while there's a possibility that the newsie names appear elsewhere on this site, I intend no infringement or theft—the newsies in this story are of my own creation and mind.

**Fighting Dutch**

**Chapter 5-Cause & Affect**

"Heya Dizzy, Hey fellas. How's it goin'?" Dutchess greeted the crew as she joined them on the Distribution Office platform at the front of the line.

"Not so bad," Dizzy replied casually, "how's about it wit you?"

"Ah, well, ya know, excited bout sellin' papes, getting' married in three days, thinkin' of joinin' Cowboy on a trip ta Santa Fe, ya know, da usual." Dutchess replied cynically.

"That great, eh?" Spot replied with a smirk.

"Shove it, Conlon," She replied, flicking his ear and leaning up against the wall.

"Aww, poor Dutch. C'mon now everyone, let's throw 'er a pity party," Blitz joked, frowning comically.

"Youse can shut ya mouth too. Accordin' to my dad, this is me last day sellin'. You guys should be bawlin'," Dutchess stated.

"Well, we would, 'cept we know Daddy Dearest is in fowah a lil' surprise."

"Yeah, like I plan on headin' here instead of dat church," Dutch responded to Charlie.

Everyone in the crew knew that she would be moving into the lodging house on the day of her supposed wedding, but none of them knew she would be taking a new name that would cause her to have to do so. Indeed, Dutchess would not be going to the wedding, because by tomorrow afternoon, there would be no wedding. Spot and she had arranged a private meeting with the pastor of the church Spot had grown up attending (he was one of the few God- fearing newsies-- which was good, because he feared nothing else). Since he knew Spot, and consequently Dutchess, he agreed to wed them legally in secret.

They were to head there this evening after the late afternoon edition and be married. Dutchess imagined her father would throw her out as soon as he heard the news. 'Hopefully', she thought. Either way, she would be spending tomorrow night with Spot. And not at the lodging house. They each had enough money saved to put a down payment on a small house, which they planned on doing before the spring. But they would be staying in a hotel tomorrow night. No one other than themselves knew that, and they hoped to keep it that way.

After the morning edition was sold, Spot met up with Dutchess at the lodging house.

"By this time tomorrow, I ain't gonna be Kathryn Winters anymore," she thought out loud, falling into the nearest bunk. Spot grinned.

"Nope. Youse is gonna be Kathryn Conlon," he replied. Getting a wicked glint in his eyes, he pounced on her playfully. She half laughed, half screamed in response to his attack.

"AGH! Conlon, get your big butt off me!" she yelled, trying to push him off her. Though she was a near equal match for him, he was still stronger, and he easily pinned her. Without any warning, he brought his mouth down upon hers. Needless to say, she didn't object. After a minute, Spot pulled back with a grin. She quickly flipped him over so that she was on top and sat on his stomach. "So what do you wanna do first when we'se married?" she asked.

"I think you know what I wanna do. I've been dreaming about this fowah the better part a two yeahs now," Spot answered, his eyes practically burning her skin as they raked over her body. Kathryn couldn't ignore his look and leaned down to kiss him soundly.

"Just 'til tomorrow night. Then we can do whatever we want," she said in response, continuing with her assault of his lips. They continued in this manner for a few minutes before they decided to get down to business.

"So we're meeting tonight at 5 pm at the Church, having Father O'Doul perform the ceremony, going back to my house and telling my father, not to mention showing him the marriage certificate, and heading back here for the night. Then we go to the Cabernet Inn and book a room for tomorrow night. And we skip selling the day after tomorrow," Kathryn voiced, laying out their game plan. Spot nodded, stroking her hair.

"That's it. Now hopefully Brooklyn will behave itself for the next three days. Last I heard, Queens' still talkin', but they ain't made any moves so far. Blitz and Dizzy are meeting up with Bunny today to make sure, but I'll keep you informed if plans change," he smirked. Kathryn playfully smacked his arm.

"You better, Conlon. You better," she said, kissing him firmly. She glanced at the clock and saw that she only had half an hour to get back home for her dress fitting. She sighed and rolled out of the bunk, extending a hand down to Spot to help him up.

"Walk me home?"

………

"I'll see you tonight," Dutchess smiled, squeezing Spot's hand before she slipped inside the door to her building. Spot grinned widely as he headed back towards the lodging house to set up their room and check on the hotel money.

When he reached the lodging house, however, a strange site met his eyes. All of his boys were sitting outside, grim lines on their faces. He surveyed the crowd for the Crew and, not seeing them, asked the nearest newsie where they were.

"They'se inside, Spot. We ain't got no idea what they'se doin' eithah. There's been some screamin' comin' out," the young newsie replied. Spot nodded and rushed towards the door, throwing it open and slamming it behind him. He ran up the stairs two at a time and stopped abruptly at the sight that met his eyes.

Lying on the lower bunk in front of him was Bunny. Her face was the color of pale slate, and she looked terrified and in great pain. Spot's face hardened, both to hide his fear and to show his authority.

"What happened?" he asked, posing the question to all in the room. Dizzy replied for the assembly.

"She din't meet Blitz and me like normal, so we'se went investigatin'. On our way to da Queens' lodgin' house, we saw a group 'a Queens' newsies headin' out 'a an alley an' they'se is talkin' 'bout 'her desoivin' ta die' and such. So we'se go an' investigate dis alley and low and behold, who do we find but Bunny, stuffed in a trash can wit a knife stickin' outta her side," Dizzy answered, her eyes glazed with a dangerous combination of fury and concern. Spot's eyes filled with fire. Dizzy continued, "Blitz an' I managed to get her back into Brooklyn. Youse got here right in time. We'se just got all the boys out and the doctah should be on his way. We need ta do somethin' though."

"Now," Spot replied. He walked over to Bunny and knelt down in front of her. In a rare moment of compassion, he stroked her hair and spoke softly. "I know it hoits, goil, but ya gonna make it. I ain't gonna let dem get away wit this. Youse is gonna get bettah an' go an' spit on dere graves when this is all through wit. But foist, ya gotta tell me-who did dis?"

"Piper, Fuel, Tank, Pinty-the whole Queens crew. An' Spot, dey's is plannin' an attack for da day aftah next," she said. "They'se lookin' to take ovah all a' Brooklyn, and Piper mentioned eithah killin' youse or exilin' you from da tri-state area." Spot stiffened at her words for a moment and stood up straight.

"Well then, I guess wese'll have ta show 'em that that ain't gonna happen. We're gonna attack first; they will pay," Spot announced, his eyes blazing. Blitz walked up to him ceremoniously.

"You tell us where an' when, Spot. We won't let you down," he said to their leader. The others nodded in agreement. Spot took a moment to look them each in the eye before replying.

"Tonight." After saying that one word, it seemed as though a fire was lit beneath him. "Charlie, gather up all the newsies over ten. Get them all into the dining room. I wanna talk with 'em. Dizzy, go get Hare and tell him that I need him ta run to Manhattan an' let 'em know what we'se is doin'. Have Sparrow go to Harlem and Midtown and tell 'em da same. Tell Hare I want him ta go to da Bronx after Manhattan as well. We'se is gonna show Queens dat when youse mess wit Brooklyn, youse is messin' wit all 'a New York. I wanna pulverize dese bastards. Vince, you're in charge of weaponry. Clubs, switchblades, I don't care, except no guns. Make sure every man has his slingshot as well. I don't wanna have ta use the blades, but I wanna have 'em, just in case." Spot paused here; thinking about how all this drastically changed his plans. As if reading his thoughts, Blitz asked quietly, "What about Dutchess? You know she'll wanna fight wit us."

"She can't," Spot replied firmly. "She has enough on her plate right now. I ain't lettin' her fight."

"We might need 'er," Dizzy interrupted. "The goil fights bettah than most 'a the fellahs."

"No," Spot stated, "I will NOT let her."

"You can't control her," Dizzy added, speaking up for her friend.

"Yes I can!" Spot responded angrily. "I will not allow her to subject herself to getting' hurt while she's got dis marriage ta deal wit."

"OK, but youse is gonna have ta tell her. I ain't gonna do it, and I don't think anyone else wants ta try and tell her that she can't do somethin'," Dizzy said. Spot nodded; he had been intending to do just that. From the bunk, Bunny groaned. As though on cue, the doctor came rushing in, Hare at his side. They all cleared back giving him some room. After a few moments of looking over her body, the doctor started speaking to the room as he worked.

"She's torn up pretty badly. Luckily, the stab wound missed her kidneys, but just barely. It's a wound intended to cause great pain without killing someone. Whoever did this to her didn't know what they were doing if they had intended to kill her though. She's going to need quite a few stitches, and probably two or three casts, and she will definitely need no less than three weeks of bed rest. Can anyone tell me what exactly happened to her?" the doctor asked.

"She was attacked by a group of about five guys. They didn't exactly go easy on her," Dizzy replied. The doctor nodded in understanding. "Then we'se had to carry her heah from Queens, which ain't such a short walk."

"Hmm...I'll check her for spinal injury then as well. Thank you for your information. Now, I have to take care of my patient, I'd appreciate it if you could give her some privacy," the doctor said, hinting that they should leave. Spot nodded toward the door and the room quickly emptied except for Bunny, who remained on the bed groaning, and the doctor.

"Are you sure we should trust him?" Pepper asked, once they had left the room and closed the door.

"He's all we got. Plus, he came from da church, so as he's a priest an' a doctah. I'd like to think we can trust him with medicine, as so many others trust him wit their faith." Dizzy replied. At this point, Spot realized how little time they had to put their plans into action.

"Alright, everyone go an' do what I'se told ya to. Charlie, youse start talkin' to da fellas once you've rounded 'em all up. I gots ta go talk to Dutchess before I talk to dem. Make sure they'se is all prepared ta fight and dat no one's sick or got somethin' wrong wit dem that'll drag us down. I ain't want no dead weights tonight, got it? Good. I'll be back in about an howah," Spot stated, turning on his heel and exiting the lodging house. He had an hour to go to the church and talk to Father O'Doul about postponing the ceremony and to talk to Kathryn. An hour to tell her that they would have to wait another day. Spot grimaced, thinking this. Going to war was the last thing he had planned on doing tonight.

--

**All reviews are appreciated! Spot!Muse appreciates cookies as well. ;)**


	6. Preparing for Battle

A/N: Updated version of old Chapter 6.

Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): I don't own Newsies or anything you recognize (I watched a lot of Buffy in my youth and I fear it's seeped into all aspects of my life). I have created several OCs for this story and while there's a possibility that the newsie names appear elsewhere on this site, I intend no infringement or theft—the newsies in this story are of my own creation and mind.

**Fighting Dutch**

**Chapter 6- Preparing for Battle**

Spot walked swiftly to Our Lady of Good Counsel Catholic Church, quickly seeking out Father O'Doul. When the pastor saw the young man he greeted him jovially.

"Michael, my son, I wasn't expecting you for another few hours! Where is your lovely wife-to-be?" Fr. O'Doul asked, smiling. Noticing his young friend's long face, the priest's demeanor changed. "Are you having second thoughts, Michael?"

"No, Father, no, nothing like that. I was just wonderin' if we could move the ceremony back a day or two," Spot replied. Fr. O'Doul gave him a curious look, so he explained. "A friend a' mine, a good friend, was attacked today. They'se done her over real good too. Turns out, they'se plannin' to attack Brooklyn. I gotta go over there an' make sure they don't."

"Michael, fighting is not the solution. What if you are hurt, or killed? I know how some of these territorial disputes can be. What if you lose your opportunity for a better life with Kathryn because of this?" the minister asked.

"I have to do this, Father. After tomorrow night, or the next day, I won't be able to go fight for Brooklyn without knowing that I have a wife to support. And that's gonna take my heart outta the fight. I can't take that chance with Brooklyn. I need to clear this all up before handing it over to a new leader," Spot stated. The pastor looked at him sternly before shaking his head.

"I cannot stop you. But please remember that you have commitments back here. And by my faith, be careful," Father O'Doul said, clasping the young man on the shoulder before turning back towards the altar. Spot said some quick prayers for his pastor and himself and headed toward Kathryn's home, keeping a steady jog the entire way.

Spot climbed the familiar fire escape and sat outside Dutchess' window, collecting himself. He could hear her humming through the open window. Peeking over the ledge and seeing that she was alone, he climbed through the inviting frame.

"Spot! What are you doing here?" Dutchess gasped, pleasantly surprised. She stood up from her chair and greeted him with a kiss. "You know its bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," she joked. Spot sighed and gathered her into his arms without warning. From the tightness of his chest, she immediately knew something was wrong. "Michael?" she asked, questioningly.

"Bunny was attacked today," he replied, looking in her eyes. Dutchess gasped in shock before asking the unavoidable question, "Who?"

"Piper and the gang," Spot replied, his eyes clouding over with hatred. She pushed back roughly against him, locking her arms against his and leaving an arm's length between their faces. He could see the anger in her eyes and no longer worried about her reaction to the delay of the wedding, but more her reaction to him making her stay behind.

"What did they do?" she growled. Spot knew he wasn't going to be able to lie to her, so he told her the truth.

"They did her over good. She's at da lodgin' house right now wit the doctah. He's fixin' her up and everything. Prolly stitchin' up her side--"

"Stitches?! Did dey cut 'er?" she asked, her newsie accent taking the place of her polished diction. Spot nodded.

"In her stomach. Doc said she was in a lot a' pain," Spot replied. Dutchess practically fumed.

"So when are we gettin' 'em back? Nobody messes wit Brooklyn an' gets away with it," she stated.

"'We' are not," Spot replied. She looked at him, shocked.

"What?! You mean you're just gonna let 'em get away wit dis?!" she asked disbelievingly.

"No, I mean dat dis is a battle dat you will not be participating in," Spot responded. Dutchess pulled herself entirely out of his embrace.

"Are you trying to tell me that you are not allowing me to participate in the attack?" she asked, and incredulous look upon her face. Spot just stared at her, his eyes showing the firmness of his decision. She answered his stare with an icy glare of her own. "Look, I don't care if you're my fiancé, the president, or the bloody queen of England, you will not keep me from this fight. This is as much my battle as it is yours, and if you think you are going to dissuade me from participating than you are dead wrong."

"Kathryn, I will not have you joinin' me in dis. Youse is got enough on ya plate wit everythin' wit ya faddah, and I ain't gonna have ya endangerin' yaself. I'll tell ya faddah to watch youse if I have to," Spot stated, his tone unwavering. She glared at him.

"You wouldn't dare," she growled.

"Don't try to disobey me den. If youse promise ta stay here, I won't. Any othah answer, and I'll tell ya fathah. And if youse lie ta me about dis, den we'll have biggah issues den me tellin' ya fathah," Spot replied indisputably. Dutchess continued to glare at him, fuming. He hated doing this to her, but it was for the best, for both of them. "Kathryn, promise me you won't get involved in this battle," he asked, his tone softer and slightly pleading. She looked as though she was considering an answer when she caught him off-guard with a counter-question.

"What does this mean about the wedding?"

"It just means we'll have to postpone it a day or two," he replied.

"And what if the battle lasts longer than a day or two? What if you get hurt, and can't get back to Brooklyn in time?" she continued.

"Territorial battles rarely last more than a day--"

"And what if this one does? We have a very small window of opportunity here Michael."

"I know, I know," Spot replied. He was losing his grip as she reiterated all the concerns that were running through his head. Sighing, he sat down on her bed. She stood in front of him, arms crossed.

"I'll make you a deal, Michael Conlon. You promise me that you will be back here in time to get married and don't get yourself killed, and I will promise to stay here and keep up appearances," Dutchess offered.

"Deal," Spot conceded. Dutchess spit in her hand and extended it to him. Before she could react, Spot grabbed her hand and pulled it towards himself, causing her to fall on top of him. He quickly put his lips on top of hers before she could offer any protest. After a moment, she pulled back.

"So you promise?" she asked.

"I promise," Spot replied. "You promise?"

"I do. Promise," she said, disjunctly. Spot smiled and kissed her again before standing up. "I hate it when we fight," she stately plainly.

"Me too," he replied, pulling her up to stand with him. "Unfortunately, I have to get going. If all goes well, I'll be back tomorrow."

"Did you tell Father O'Doul?" Dutchess asked.

"I saw him right before I came here," Spot replied. "He wasn't very happy about me going."

"Well that makes two of us," she responded cynically. Spot gave her his best 'I-know-you're-annoyed-but-stop-rubbing-it-in-my-face' look before giving her a quick kiss and turning to go. Without giving him any warning, Dutchess grabbed his hand and pulled him back to her, wrapping her hands around his back and pulling him close, kissing him deeply. After a minute, she pulled back.

"Just to give you a little motivation to get home quick," she explained. Spot grinned.

"Youse just like making it hard for me to leave," Spot replied, smirking. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. I love you."

"I love you, too," she said softly, as he quickly slipped out the window and left her alone. She knew she wouldn't get any sleep until he returned.

When Spot arrived back at the lodging house, everything was going according to his orders. The doctor was still with Bunny, so Spot headed toward the dining hall to talk to the boys. This was going to be a night they would not soon forget.

--

**All reviews are appreciated! Spot!Muse appreciates cookies as well. ;)**


	7. Irish Spirit

A/N: First new chapter in 5 years. (dies of shock) Kidding about the death thing. But seriously, I'm working on chapter 8 right now. :)

Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): I don't own Newsies or anything you recognize (I watched a lot of Buffy in my youth and I fear it's seeped into all aspects of my life). I have created several OCs for this story and while there's a possibility that the newsie names appear elsewhere on this site, I intend no infringement or theft—the newsies in this story are of my own creation and mind.

**Fighting Dutch**

**Chapter Seven – Irish Spirit**

Dutchess was violently silent the next morning at breakfast. The lack of sleep did nothing to improve her already abysmal mood. On top of the fact that she was scheduled to wed a man she didn't love the day after next, her beloved was out in the streets fighting for Brooklyn and she wasn't fighting beside him where she was meant to be. Another wave of rage raked over her and she sloshed dishwater all over her apron as she aggressively wiped down a glass from breakfast. Her father sat behind her at the table, reading the morning paper. Seeing the paper she lost control of her tightly wound emotions.

"Daddy, we need to talk." Dutchess was shaking slightly as she rubbed her hands dry on her apron. Her father looked at her over his newspaper, letting her know he was listening.

"I'm not going to marry Sam the day after tomorrow, or any other day," she said firmly. Seeing her father's face shift quickly into a mask of anger, she continued, saying, "I'm in love with a man named Michael Conlon and he loves me and we're going to get married someday."

"Kathryn, I have told you once already--" her father began sternly before she cut him off.

"I heard what ya said the first time, and the second time, and I don't care. I ain't marryin' Sam. I know mom made a promise with Mr. Brownston a long time ago, but that doesn't matter anymore. I can take care of myself if it comes down to it. The fact of the matter is I already got a fella who loves me more than life itself, and I'm not about to let that go, seein' as I love him too," Dutchess spat back, slipping comfortably into her newsie vernacular. Her father looked livid.

"Kathryn Marie Winters, you will do as I say regardless of your supposed feelings for this other man. Michael Conlon. And just what does Michael do? I suppose he's one of your newsie friends, am I correct? Likely a mongrel without a future and no legitimate means of providing for you, and you want me to accept him as your future husband? I think not. You will marry Samuel after tomorrow and that's final. And clean up your mouth. You're above speaking as you just spoke to me."

Kathryn stared her father down in a show of complete defiance. She was dangerously close to losing her temper again when the thought that she would be married to Spot as early as later that day calmed her fraying nerves. She took a deep breath through her nostrils and, throwing the glass back in the sink, stalked away to her room and slammed the door.

Mr. Winters stared at the shaking door frame in abject distain. Kathryn had never displayed such contempt or disobedience towards him. This only cemented his mindset that marriage to a man like Samuel was exactly what she needed to ease her transition into womanhood.

Behind the closed door, Dutchess fell to her bed in broken sobs.

………

Across town by the Brooklyn/Queen border, Spot was deep in conversation with Cowboy, Knave, Spitz and Wheeler, leaders of the Manhattan, Bronx, Midtown and Harlem boroughs, respectively.

"The boys have been fightin' half the night and Piper an' Fuel are still out there. We gots ta do somethin' ta draw dem out and fight," Spot stated. His face was dirty from fighting in the streets alongside his boys, and there was a small gash near his hairline where the blood had congealed.

"They'se boys are relentless. I didn't realize there were so many hoodlums in Queens 'til tonight," Knave said, wiping blood from his lip.

"Most of 'em ain't been hard to hit, but they'se fightin' dirty. Throwin' in kids to do men's work," Wheeler added. It was true—many of the boys fighting on behalf of Queens weren't older than 12, but they seemed to be limitless in number.

"So we know Queens is run by a bunch a pansies whose afraid to get dere faces doity. What we need ta know is how we're gonna get em ta fight. Or where we can find 'em, for dat matter. Cowboy, any a da boids come back with news about where Piper an' Fuel could be hidin'?" Scot asked, moving the discussion along. Jack shook his head.

"None new. We'se already got boys on da lookout at da Queens lodgin' house, da shipyard and da old steel mill."

"We gotten any info out of that Crumb kid?" Spot asked. Interrogation was Spitz's domain.

"Not yet, but I'll go see if we can't speed up dat process," the Midtown leader replied, cracking his knuckles. "I'll be downstairs if ya need me."

As Spitz was leaving the room a scuffed up newsie flew by him into the room, stirring up dust behind him.

"Sparrow, what you know?" Spot asked, immediately on the defensive. Sparrow was one of his best 'boids.' The young newsie was still catching his breath as he heaved out a response.

"Piper an'…Fuel…are about two miles…away…Dey're in an empty boarding house…behind the sewage plant."

"Where else would we expect to find rats," Spot growled through clenched teeth. "Boys--" but before he could start issuing orders Sparrow held up his hand, letting his leader know he had more to say.

"Dizzy an' I followed a couple of da Queens boys out dere, but we lost sight a da boys and spilt up…divide and conquer, ya know? But when I'se seen what I needed to see and went lookin' for her I couldn't find her and…Spot, I think dey might have her." Sparrow finished, ducking his head as if expecting a beating for reporting such unwelcome news.

"Dizzy? As in Brooklyn's Second, Dizzy?" Wheeler asked the small boy.

"Ain't none othah that would matter to 'em," Spot stated, his voice stretched thin with near uncontrollable rage. "They'se know I'll come for her. What they'se still got to learn is that when you mess wit one a us, you'se messin wit our family. And we'se don't like dat, do we boys?" Spot got a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"How's dat Irish poem go, Sparrow? Somethin' about God turnin' the hearts of those that don't love us. An' if he can't do dat, may he turn their ankles, so dat we will know dem by dere limping," Spot grinned maliciously as he pondered this thought,"...yeah, I think dat'll do the trick."

...

Evening came too quickly for Dutchess' liking. She spent half the day locked in her room and the other half with her soon-to-be mother-in-law looking at China patterns and linen designs. Not having any information about Spot or what was happening in Queens was driving her insane. Spot hadn't yet returned and the day after tomorrow was frighteningly close to becoming merely 'tomorrow.' Dutchess was getting worried—turf wars didn't normally last more than a day. Then again, they didn't normally involve all the New York City boroughs either. Dutchess knelt at her window with the intent of prayer, but ended up having a stern conversation with God about the fate of her beloved. She tried to be as respectful as possible, but feared she may have made some idle threats to the Almighty if he failed to return Spot to her in good working order. Forget idle. If he didn't come back to her she would traverse heaven and hell to be with him in eternal life. And if it was the former maybe give the Good Lord a piece of her mind in person as well.

--

**All reviews are appreciated! Spot!Muse appreciates cookies as well. ;)**


	8. Pulling Punches

A/N: Please read & review. Sadly, there were no reviews for the last chapter, but I suppose I somewhat deserve that after not updating for 5 years. Still, I'd appreciate if you let me know what you think of this story.

Same disclaimer as the previous chapter applies. I own nothing you recognize.

**Chapter Eight – Pulling Punches**

Dutchess awoke the next morning curled up next to her windowsill. At some point during her prayer session she had fallen asleep in the uncomfortable position, and the hours had progressed in a most unwelcome fashion. She quickly turned her head, surveying her room for any sign of Spot's return. None was to be found. There was a sharp knock on her bedroom door, very similar to the knock that had stirred her from her sleep only moments before. She sighed loudly and took a long moment to stretch the kinks from her body before moving to open the door and face the offending party. Not surprisingly, her father was on the offending side of the thin wooden panel.

"Yes, Daddy?" she answered, opening the door. Her father's hard look softened slightly at the disheveled sight of his only daughter.

"It's nearly nine o'clock. You need to get ready for your meeting with Samuel and Father Brian. I just wanted to make sure you were awake and had something appropriate to wear." Dutchess sighed again. She realized she'd been doing it quite frequently as of late, and sent up a silent reminder to God about their 'conversation' the previous evening.

"Well, as you can see I am now awake, and I of course have an appropriate dress for the meeting. I'll be ready in about half an hour," she said, closing the door again so as not to invite further dialogue. Her father's pained face was the last thing she saw before hearing the metal of the lock engage the frame.

With another deep sigh, Dutchess turned towards her wardrobe.

-- -- --

Spot dragged his feet up the stairs of the Brooklyn lodging house, his mind re-running the events of the past few hours over and over again. Shortly after Sparrow's message, Spot, Jack, and a few of their best newsies had gone to the old sewage plant to rescue Dizzy. They had managed to locate her, beaten and broken, in one of the empty storage vats. Piper and Fuel were no where to be found. Spot thought it both strange and cowardly that they would leave her to be found without someone standing guard over her. Something was definitely brewing in their enemy minds, and Spot hadn't a clue what they were scheming.

The fighting in the streets had ended a few hours before, mostly due to exhaustion and injury. Each side avowed he would return the next night to continue the battle, but for now they all needed to rest and recuperate, if only for a few precious hours. There had been no casualties as of yet, but Spot knew that some of the boys had sustained serious injuries that might never heal. Time would determine the final verdict for those.

Spot and Blitz had carried Dizzy back to the Brooklyn lodging house and Doc (whose mother had been a nurse) had done his best to clean and dress Dizzy's numerous injuries. She had been unconscious most of the time, though she did wake up screaming when Doc reset her shoulder. As soon as her arm was correctly positioned she quickly passed out again. She hadn't woken since then, but her breathing had somewhat stabilized.

Charlie and Blitz had gone with Spot to rescue Dizzy and had returned with them to the lodging house. Vince and Pepper stayed at the battle grounds and oversaw the recovery and assessment currently happening in that part of town. Blitz had convinced Spot that even the fearless needed sleep or they would become the mindless, and Spot grudgingly agreed to try to get some sleep of his own while Dizzy was still unconscious. After making both Charlie and Blitz swear (twice) that they would wake him at the first sign of Dizzy stirring, Spot dragged himself up to the bunkroom.

The younger boys who weren't allowed to fight were currently out in the safer parts of Brooklyn continuing to 'Carry the Banner' and bring a few quarters home to share. With everyone out in the streets, Spot had the bunkroom to himself. He said a silent prayer asking that Dizzy recover fully and quickly and that the battle be over soon. He prayed for his love and hoped she was keeping up her end of their bargain. Spot wished he could be with her at that moment, but knew that it still wasn't safe for them. Not yet.

"Soon, baby. Soon," he whispered to himself as he fell asleep with thoughts of her fresh in his mind.

-- -- --

Dutchess sat uncomfortably on a settee in the Brownston's living room, the teacup in her hands growing cold with neglect. She gazed across the room through a large bay window. The sun was hanging low in the sky, as though to mock her with the impeding threat of tomorrow. Mrs. Brownston and some of her socialite friends were seated around Dutchess, chatting about the morrow's nuptial plans. Feeling the conversation turn to her, Dutchess withdrew her eyes from the window and focused on the conversation at hand.

"…Kathryn has the most beautiful gown. Samuel hasn't seen it yet, of course, but he's just going to die when he does. Isn't that right darling?" Mrs. Brownston said, directing the conversation to Dutchess.

"It's delightful," Dutchess replied, hoping the mask on her face somewhat resembled a smile.

"While we're on the topic, weren't you going to have it hemmed a bit more before tomorrow? The length is a bit cumbersome…we wouldn't want you to fall over while processing down the aisle!" Mrs. Brownston asked, laughing lightly at her own joke. Kathryn tried not to grimace.

"Yes, it was to be done yesterday but the seamstress was ill," Dutchess replied calmly.

"Ill? Pish posh, that shouldn't keep you from having a perfect wedding dress! If you like, I can call my chambermaid Alice to hem it. She's a fair seamstress herself. And if she does it now, we can all see how wonderful it looks on you!" Martha Jackson, one of Mrs. Brownston's socialite friends, spoke. Mrs. Brownston looked delighted at the idea. Dutchess tried to hide her pallor.

"What a splendid idea, thank you Martha! If you would call her to us, she and Kathryn can use the guest room down the hall to make the necessary changes."

'Keeping up appearances, keeping up appearances,' Dutchess repeated silently in her head as she nodded along with Mrs. Brownston's suggestion. A few minutes later a young woman no older than she was standing at the living room door.

"Alice, there you are. Please take Miss Winters to the guest room and assist her with the hem of her wedding gown. The gown is in Mrs. Brownston's closet. You may retrieve it as you pass by her quarters," Mrs. Jackson directed.

Alice uttered a quick "Yes, Madame" and Dutchess rose to join her by the door. After excusing herself from the rest of the guests, Dutchess followed Alice down the hall to the guest bedroom.

"If you like, Miss, you can divest of your current frock while I fetch the wedding gown."

Dutchess nodded as the young maid left the room. Not knowing what else to do, she began removing her shoes and dress. Her corset was tight and made her movement slow, though her mind was racing.

'I'm supposed to marry tomorrow morning…less than half a day from now. Damn you, Michael Conlon, for leaving me to the last minute! …I cannot marry Sam—I won't. But how do I get out of it this far into the fight?' Dutchess thought, neatly folding her dress over the edge of the bed. The bedspread was an intricate pattern of soft yellows and greens. The pillows at the head of the bed were smaller than normal, and Dutchess realized this room was likely made up for a child. With that thought, Dutchess mentally stumbled upon a simple (and perhaps crazy) plan that would ensure she was not going to walk down the aisle with Samuel the following morning.

'As Spot says, 'Ya don't pull ya punches in a fight ya asked for.' Dutchess thought, a smirk falling across her lips. Alice had, thankfully, not yet returned, and Dutchess quickly untied and began loosening her corset strings. She stuck out her stomach as far as she could without it seeming unnatural and began to pull the strings back together to retie the corset.

-- -- --


	9. Appearances Can Be Deceiving

_A/N: To say that this chapter took a severe turn from the original plan would be an accurate assessment of the situation. Chapter Eight came to me on a whim and left far more holes than I had plot to fill…needless to say, I spent a few restless nights before everything clicked into place and I was able to write this chapter. I hope it was worth your wait. Now that I'm moving in a forward direction, the next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long. _

** Chapter Nine – Appearances Can Be Deceiving**

Spot felt a gentle shake of his shoulder and looked up to see Blitz standing beside his bunk.

"She's wakin' up," Blitz said, a grin on his face. Spot thumbed the sleep from his eyes as he quickly rose from his bunk and headed toward the room where Dizzy was laying.

"She say anything?" Spot asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

"Not yet. She just started moanin' a bit and her head started moving a bit, so we'se figured she was probably gonna wake up soon," Blitz replied, falling into step right behind his leader. Spot nodded.

"Thanks fur getting' me up. How long I been sleepin?"

"Three hours, I think," Blitz responded. "It's almost eight."

"The boys'll be back at it in an hour or so. Hopefully Diz has some info dat'll help us finish dis," Spot grimaced, quietly opening the door to her room.

"Spot…"

He looked towards the bed and saw Dizzy looking back at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Spot offered her a small smile.

"Glad to see ya decided to rejoin da world a da livin," Spot replied, kneeling by her bed. "How ya feelin, kid?"

"Like I been hit by a trolley car, but thanks fur askin'," Dizzy replied, brushing a hand across her eyes and removing the glistening pools that gathered. "Youse catch dem bummahs yet?"

"No, unfortunately. We'se workin' on it. Hopin' youse got some information dat'll help wit dat. Can you remembah anything 'bout when they'se did this to ya?" Spot asked. Dizzy nodded, looking resigned.

"I wish I couldn't, but yah. Sparrow and I got to the sewage plant and split up so we could look around faster. Piper, Fuel, and a few of their thugs were in an old shack behind da plant. It didn't look like anything to me at first, so I'se went around da back to see if I'se could see inside. Next thing I know three thugs are beatin' on me back and knockin' me around. I got one of 'em real good across the kisser, but then another one of 'em must 'a knocked me out because da next thing I remembah I'm tied up to one a da big pipes in the plant. They done me over pretty good, but you know me, I can take a soakin' and still mouth off. Piper didn't like dat so much so he hit me a bit more. Fuel wasn't there when I woke up but he came back shortly after. He had some papers in his hands and he and Piper were lookin' at 'em and getting kinda smiley. Anyway, after dat Piper came back ovah and said somethin' about it bein' my lucky day. I tink he said somethin' about a better catch and talked about gettin' your attention dis time. Den he hit me again and the next thing I remember is wakin up heah," Dizzy looked like the tale had taken a bit out of her and Spot let her catch her breath for a minute.

"You see what dose papes looked like or what was on 'em?" Spot asked.

"I didn't get a good look at 'em, but it looked like some drawing of a goil. A few of em, actually. I think it was the same girl in all of dem, but I dunno. I jist remembah dat she was sleepin' in one a da drawins," Dizzy replied. Spots jaw clenched and his face paled.

"Drawings like a paintin' or a like a sketch?"

"Sketch, definitely. They looked like they'd been torn out of a book or somethin'..." Dizzy trailed off as Spot abruptly left the room. Blitz shared a questioning look with Dizzy before they heard a loud "Dammit!" come from the bunk room and Spot came storming back into her room.

"It's gone. Me sketchbook. It ain't heah," he said, running a hand through his hair and pacing the small room. Blitz knitted his eyebrows together in thought.

"De only time no one's been heah is when we'se went an got Dizzy. But even then da younga boys was around and they didn't see nothin'. So that means…" Blitz started.

"Dat we got a rat in da house, dats what it means." Spot finished, his eyes blazing. As if ice water had been poured over him, his expression of anger changed immediately to one of fear. "You said one of the drawins was of a sleepin' goil?"

"Yeah, she was lying in a bed. Dark hair and a smile is all I remember," Dizzy replied. Spot's face lost all color.

"Dutchess…" he whispered loud enough for both Blitz and Dizzy to hear. Then, as if snapping out of a trance he grabbed his cane and flew from the room, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell as a door slammed below. Dizzy and Blitz shared a look of sudden understanding before Blitz nodded to her and flew out of the room after their leader. He would almost certainly need backup.

-- -- --

"Miss, I'm going to need to tighten your corset further or this dress isn't going to button," Alice said, flustered.

"No!" Dutchess yelled. Looking embarrassed by her outburst she added, "I've pulled the strings as tight as they go." Alice also looked embarrassed.

"Well Miss, perhaps abstaining from meal and drink this evening and the morrow will help," Alice looked down as though she would be struck for offering such a suggestion.

"I highly doubt my condition will improve by the morning…or the next several mornings…" Dutchess whispered, sharing a look with Alice that spoke volumes.

"Oh, my. Well perhaps we can relax the seam a bit…" Alice replied, examining the intricate stitching on the lace bodice. At that moment Mrs. Brownston knocked and entered the room.

"What seems to be the problem, Alice? It doesn't usually take so long to hem a gown…most of the other women have left by now," Mrs. Brownston scolded. Alice glanced up and shared a look with Dutchess.

"Yes M'am. The hemming is complete, we were just talking about letting the sides out a bit…" Alice replied meekly.

"Oh, bother. The lacing is seamless and adding one would be unnecessary. Kathryn fit the dress only a week ago and it was fine. Did you do something to ruin it?" Mrs. Brownston asked accusingly. Alice stepped back and again looked at Dutchess, who quickly stepped in.

"No, Mrs. Brownston. Alice has been wonderful. I'm afraid it's my fault. I've been so preoccupied with wedding plans that I didn't realize how much time has passed and didn't think…" Dutchess stopped mid sentence and looked away from her soon-to-be mother-in-law.

"Didn't think what, dear? Of how much you were eating?" Mrs. Brownston asked. Dutchess sighed internally. She was going to have to step it up a notch and spell it out for the woman. She gently laid a hand over her stomach and urged tears into her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Brownston. I didn't think, is all. I didn't think this would happen, I never imagined. I didn't know about marrying Samuel then, and I didn't plan for this and now…now it's too late to hide my condition," Dutchess cried, looking ashamed and rubbing her stomach for effect. Mrs. Brownston quickly understood and gasped. Her shock quickly turned to disapproval.

"And you were just going to marry my son as if your 'situation' didn't exist? I cannot believe you would put yourself into such a position, Kathryn! Your father is a good man, he raised you better than this!" Mrs. Brownston yelled.

"I know, I know…please, don't make me tell him! This will ruin him." Dutchess replied, continuing to cry. Alice quietly exited the room.

"It very well may, but rather him than my son! I'm sorry Kathryn, promise or no promise I will not allow my only son to marry a harlot. Now get dressed, a carriage will meet you at the door to take you home. I will inform my family and guests that the wedding is off; I advise you to do the same," Mrs. Brownston drew herself up to her full height and, shaking her head one last time, left Dutchess alone in the room. She quickly re-dressed in her original frock and headed towards the main entrance. To her great surprise and dismay, her father had arrived and was waiting for her at the door. He looked livid.

"Coach. Now. We will discuss this when we get home," Mr. Winters commanded. Dutchess hung her head and complied with his request. She knew that the conversation she had with her father would be the most difficult, but she never expected him to find out like this. They sat silently across from one another in the coach, her eyes never meeting his. It wasn't until they entered the apartment and closed the door when Mr. Winters exploded.

"Kathryn Marie Winters, how could you be so stupid! Getting yourself pregnant by some street trash? Pregnant out of wedlock? I cannot believe your insolence and foolishness! Now the wedding is off and your future is ruined. I doubt I'll be able to look Mr. Brownston in the eye for the rest of my life! And all this…ALL THIS…because I wanted a good future for you? Because I wanted something better than this life for you?"

"Daddy, please…" Dutchess sniffed, no longer faking the tears pouring down her face.

"Don't 'Daddy' me, you ungrateful, selfish, brat!...I cannot stand to look at you. I cannot stand to think of you…"

"You don't mean that Daddy. I'm sorry, but I tried to tell you--"

"You tried to tell me nothing! You kept spouting on about love, not about a child!"

"You're right, I didn't mention being pregnant. But I meant what I said about being in love with Spot!"

"Spot? You told me about Michael!...My God, my daughter is a common whore!"

"No, Daddy, Michael is Spot! Spot is his newsie name."

"A newsboy, Kathryn? A NEWSBOY?! My impertinent child, I hope you are happy with the choices you've made for yourself. I, however, will not condone them. Nor will I any longer acquaint myself with you," Mr. Winters said, looking at his daughter as though she were a piece of trash in the street.

"You and your bastard child are not welcome in my home."

Dutchess stared at her father, speechless. She knew that it was possible he might disown her over her affair with Spot, but knowing it was possible and hearing him verbalize all the awful things he'd just called her were very different.

"Dadd--"

"Don't. Just grab your belongings and leave."

"But--"

"No! Just go."

Dutchess watched as her father gave her one last withering look before retiring behind his door, leaving her standing alone in the living room. She drew in a deep, rattling breath and headed to her room to pack as many of her personal effects as she could fit in a satchel. She was able to amass her most prized possessions, mostly items that belonged to her mother, the few dollars she had saved, and a few sets of clothes in a large, sturdy hat box. Taking a final glance around the room, Dutchess exited through the door and left her apartment, her father—her life—behind.

Dutchess was no more than two blocks away from her apartment when she found herself being pulled from the street and against a tall, hard body.

"Two forah da price of one, huh sweetface? Pipah's gonna be pleased," an unfamiliar voice growled in her ear. His breath smelled sour with stale beer. Dutchess aimed a well-placed heel at his insole and managed to turn the table on the offending party. She managed to get in a solid sucker-punch to the gut and an upper-cut to the jaw before she felt a heavy weight come across the back of her head. Then everything went black.

-- -- --

"Kate! Katie!!" Spot yelled, pounding on her apartment door. Her window had been locked and her room dark; Spot was hoping desperately that she was safely inside with her father. He continued pounding another few moments before the door was thrown wide and he found himself face-to-face with his love's father.

"Mistah Winters, sir. Is Kate here?" Spot asked, taking note of the older man's dark eyes and stolid face.

"Kathryn no longer lives here. May I ask who's calling?" Mr. Winters asked coldly.

"Michael Conlon, sir." Spot stood proud and nervous in front of him, expecting any other reaction than the one he received. The old man began to laugh.

"So you're the man who ruined my daughter's life? Wonderful. Marvelous. Well, when you find Kathryn—and I assure you you'll not find her here ever again—please let her know I would appreciate if neither she, you, or your bastard child ever sully my stoop again." And with that said, Mr. Winters slammed the door in Spot's face.

To say that Spot had been caught off guard with a number of things revealed in Mr. Winter's tirade would be an understatement. He felt it was safe to assume the wedding was off, but a child? Spot knew he would remember had he been present at the creation of any child. But if Dutchess wasn't at the apartment, and she wasn't at the lodging house…and with a rat in Brooklyn and Piper looking for her…

"Shit."

-- -- --

_A/N: Questions? Comments? Snide remarks? :) All feedback is appreciated!_


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